Tormented
by TheyCallMeGoose
Summary: To the innocent and inexperienced, love can be the most dangerous emotion in the world. WARNINGS: character death, element of insanity.


_Hello all! I've recently decided to rework all the oneshots I've posted (my old followers should check out my updated profile... and not kill me please?), and this is the new and improved Tormented, previously titled Touched.  
><em>_There's not a great many changes - a different tense and typo corrections mostly_, though there may still be some mistakes - apologies if there are_. It needed doing however, and now that it's done I can focus on other projects. :P  
><em>_(Yes, before you ask, I've copied this message into all my updated oneshots.)_

_So for new readers, enjoy! and for those who have read this before, enjoy it again if you wish. :D_

-x-

Pacing seems to be all that can comfort him, though it does very little to calm the maelstrom within his mind. Twisting, contorting and punishing, his thoughts whirl around in his head at a dizzying speed, turning full circle again and again, always revolving around the same subject. _Her._

That woman, that mage... Since meeting her just over three years ago, Marian Hawke has become one of the most important people in his life. She uses magic, one of the main sources of his overwhelming hate, and yet she calms him better than anyone he knows, so much so that he almost began to reconsider his views on mages. What remains of her family is happy and cared for, something he knows he once had but will likely never remember, and yet she understands his feelings of loss and pain as well anyone after losing both her father and her two siblings. She's more educated than him and can read and write with ease, and yet instead of ridiculing him for not knowing these basic and every day skills, she chooses to share her knowledge with him, happily helping him learn these skills every day with the patience of a saint. She's become everything to him. His every moment, his every breath, is dedicated to her. He knows he would lay down his life for her without hesitation.

He realised his feelings for her a few months ago quite by accident. He visited her the night after she aided him in killing one of his life-long tormentors, intent on apologising to her for taking his anger out on her. Instead of turning him away and demanding he stay away from her as he expected her to do – after all, he'd taken a mage's life without hesitation earlier that day – she revealed her worry for him. She consoled him and finally showed him that his feelings were returned. In sharing both her body and her emotions with him, she gave him something so precious and yet so unfamiliar, something he never expected to have; intimacy, passion, love. He'd never felt such things before and, though it thrilled him, it also terrified him.

He left. He knew it was the wrong thing to do, but he was too confused, too overwhelmed by it all to linger. Pausing only to surreptitiously swipe a red ribbon from her night table – he was too selfish to deny himself something of hers as a keepsake – he fled from her heartbroken gaze, he fled from her dwarven manservant's concerned queries, he even fled Hightown. All that remains in his memory of that night is many drinks at Varric's room at The Hanged Man, spilling his guts and crying pitifully. Confessing everything to Hawke's closest friend wasn't the wisest ideas he'd ever had but at the time it helped, and Varric had not told a soul, true to his word as always. Of course, the embarrassment of the situation angered him and he hasn't brought it up with the dwarf since, preferring to mull his thoughts over in sweet solitude.

It was never been his intention to hurt her. He needed plenty of space and time to think. He wanted Hawke to know that despite his poor actions and continued distance he still cared for her, and in time he would return to her, ready to give her what she wants, treat her like she deserves, and love her completely till the end of his days. He began by tying the red ribbon he stole from her room around his wrist, wearing it every day without fail to confirm his affections for her. It was solid proof that there was still hope for them, and he took to wearing it with pride.

She didn't notice.

Weeks passed and not once did Marian show that she remembered their night together, nor did she show any sign of even caring for him like she once did. All of their friends noticed the favour and made small, smart comments about his feelings for her, and though he tried not to rise to the occasion, he often snapped at them simply for mentioning it. It seemed like he'd become nothing more than a sword-arm or bodyguard to her, not even important enough to look at. That selfless, caring, beautiful woman who once made him feel like he belonged somewhere in the world had used him like a cheap whore.

Confusion became anger surprisingly quickly. His temper would flare quicker, and twice he almost ran Isabela through for propositioning him. It got worse the more she ignored him. Why was she suddenly acting like this? Was it revenge? He began resenting her for every word she spoke that wasn't a kindness towards him, until something happened - this very day in fact - that slashed through the last rope holding him to the shore of sanity.

She kissed the abomination.

Oh, he noticed them getting closer, of course, but thought nothing of it, believing all they had in common was the use of magic. They never acted like anything but friends, and considering the amount of arguments they had a day about mage rights, he never had a reason to think that there _could_ be more than a friendship between the two. Then that abomination healed a burn she acquired from tangling with a particularly vicious Rage Demon, and she planted a kiss right on that self-righteous bastard's cheek. That kiss should've been given to _him_...

And so he paces, ideas and plans racing through his mind as he drains bottle after bottle of cheap, tasteless wine. He _must_ stop it. She belongs to him and it's about time Anders knows it. It's about time _everyone_ knows it. A frown pulls at his brow, a single thought halting his frenzied march; the abomination has always been particularly single-minded, especially when Marian or mage rights are involved, and the stubborn fool will likely never listen to reason. In fact, he's more likely to gloat that he holds Marian's affections now. What else can he do to win her back?

Pausing with a bottle half-raised to his dry lips, a cruel and sinister smile begins to spread across his face. It's such a perfect idea – how didn't he think this up before? If he simply proves to the world that her heart belongs to him, he won't need to win her back. No one will ever try to take her from him again, not even the abomination. Abandoning his sword in his haste to leave, he springs across the hall and wrenches the door open with a chuckle of glee. She _will_ be his, forever!

The cobblestones of the Hightown streets chill his bare feet to the bone as he sprints the short distanct to the Amell Estate. Rain sluices down the length of his neck and soaks the back of the thin tunic beneath his armour, yet he hardly notices – his spirits are far too high for him to pay attention to such trivial matters as weather. He reaches the estate in moments and wastes no time climbing the creepers up the side of the building, choosing to ignore the main entrance tonight due to the secrecy of his plans. Sliding carefully through her conveniently open window he crosses the room with determined strides, eyes locked with hers intently. She's sat up in bed, dressed only in a thin nightshirt and reading a very familiar looking book – the first book she taught him to read. Surprise widens her stunningly bright blue eyes and she gasps, such a pretty little sound. Dropping the leather bound book to the covers, she begins to rise just as he reaches the bed.

"Fenris? What are you-"

A gauntled finger to her lips quickly hushes her, and with gentle motions he urges her to lie back against the plush cushions. She complies so easily, trust shining in those beautiful periwinkle eyes, though it is tainted ever so slightly with concern. He sits beside her on the bed and leans over her, stroking raven locks out of her face with gentle fingers, taking care not to cut her with the spikes of his armour. As he gazes lovingly down at her the markings on his body begin to glow, bathing her face in an eerie blue light, and he smiles.

"You're mine, Hawke. You always will be."

He trails his hand from her cheek down her neck, pushing down when he reaches her shoulder. She squirms as he holds her down, claiming that he's scaring her and begging him to stop. He can barely hear her. He's too mesmerised by the blush colouring her pale skin, the tears shimmering like diamonds in her eyes, the glisten of saliva on her full lips as she licks them nervously. Those lips that caressed the abomination's cheek only a few hours ago. Rage overwhelms him instantly. The light shining from his tattoos burns brighter with his fury, and with the smallest of motions he buries his hand in her chest. Her pleas fall silent immediately and she stares up at him with terror in her eyes; he can't help but notice that they're the same blue as the shimmering waters of Seheron. Fascinated by the sight of her fear and the feel of her heavily beating heart resting in the palm of his hand, he leans closer to her and rubs his cheek softly against hers. He drops kisses from the corner of her trembling lips along her jawline, and a sound similar to a purr rumbles from deep within him as his mouth slides over her silky skin.

"I never stopped caring." he whispers once his kisses reach her ear. "You drove me mad, you pushed me away, but I never stopped loving you. You took my heart, Marian. It's only fair that I take yours too. They'll all know you belong to me now."

Realisation flits across her face, instantly softening her expression, and an unexpected tenderness fills her eyes behind the slowly falling tears. She smiles at him, and as he tugs his arm back, ripping her heart from her body and ending her life, her last words fall from her lips like petals from a withered rose.

"But I love you."

Her words drift through his mind like a cleansing summer breeze chasing away a thick fog, calming him and purifying his crazed and murderous thoughts. He almost smiles at the relief it brings him, until he looks down at the face of the woman he loves. Sky blue eyes that once captivated him stare back, blank and lifeless, devoid of their usual dancing glint. The sight brings a choking wave of despair crashing down upon him. Tears spill out onto his cheeks and drip off his chin, splashing onto her lips. A wail of pure anguish escapes him. _What have I done_?

Without a second thought he holds his hand up against his neck, digging the spiked fingers of his gauntlet into his flesh, and tearing them sharply across his throat. Blood, warm and wet, cascades down his skin like a waterfall of death as he collapses forward on the bed, ready to die beside Marian Hawke, the only woman he ever loved. His last breath slips from him in a low gasp, and his very last sight is of a red ribbon adorning a spiked gauntlet, holding a heart that always belonged to him.


End file.
